


Personal Interest

by shiphitsthefan



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Mænd & høns | Men & Chicken (2015)
Genre: #babybullfest, Accidental Voyeurism, Alpha Elias, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crying, Hannibal Extended Universe, Humor, Inspired by Real Events, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Omega Adam, Riding, Truly Unnecessary Amounts of Come and Slick, Vaginal Fingering, Wet & Messy, no really i'm not kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 23:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiphitsthefan/pseuds/shiphitsthefan
Summary: All Adam Towers wants is to be taken seriously as a journalist. Unfortunately, he's an omega, and that means he's doomed to all of the assignments the alphas of the press pool don't want. So here he is, on his way to interview Elias Thanatos, a reclusive man who builds dollhouses for birds.This assignment is a fucking joke.Elias, however, very much isn't.





	Personal Interest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FlyingRotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingRotten/gifts).



> Last December, I read [this article about an artist who designs home interiors inside bird feeders](http://geekologie.com/2016/11/bird-houses-woman-decorates-beautiful-ho.php). I've never written Basic Chickens before, but I immediately thought of Elias and Adam, because this article is a seriously perfect set-up!
> 
> Since I missed Basic Chickens Week back in January, I shoved the idea away onto my prompt pile. And then Camille decided to hold an Elias fest, which I wasn't going to write for because I have at least five different WIPs to be updating, but my brain decided this weekend that it needed to write A/B/O and it needed to write it _now_.
> 
> I started this Friday afternoon and finished it up this morning. [Llewcie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llewcie/pseuds/Llewcie/works) was kind enough to beta it immediately. This was a wild, fun ride to write; I hope you have the same experience while reading it. <3

“An assignment for you,” they’d said. “A ‘human interest’ story,” they’d said.

_What a fucking joke._

Adam had expected it when he was called into the feature editor’s office, though he’d hoped to be wrong. As often as omegas got penned in as the intrepid reporter in all the thrillers and mysteries, out in the real world, they were guaranteed the worst assignments. Omegas were the pariahs of the press pool, fighting for scraps and bylines, covering celebrity weddings and advice columns and community events. Alphas got all the glory, broke all the big stories, pinched all the asses of the lesser sex.

Still, Adam knows he could’ve had it worse. He could have been born a woman, too. One glass ceiling was much easier to break through than two. There was something to be said for male privilege.

If only it kept him from getting the shittiest assignments at the national rag.

Here Adam is, in a car he paid too much to rent, on his way to a village out in the middle of Bumfuckinghamshire, to interview a recluse who builds dollhouses for birds. What even _is_ Adam’s life?

The man in question—Adam glances to the folder lying in the passenger seat—Elias Thanatos, had submitted a set of photos to a miniature hobby magazine for a contest, and the story had blown up into an internet sensation. Any oddity is bound to go viral, he supposes, but this one was simply ludicrous. Interesting, sure, but ridiculous as fuck.

Thanatos’ photo had been of a miniature library, elegantly and lovingly decorated with ornate bookshelves along every wall, tufted chairs and reading lamps. The craftsman’s skill was indisputable, as was his attention to detail. Every shelf was filled with tiny books, each properly bound, the spines and covers lettered with near-microscopic titles. Miniscule papers littered the desk, also handwritten, likely with the tiny graphite pencils. Wooden chairs were hand-carved and upholstered. Even the curtains were the real deal, as were the lamps, wired and working.

Adam had to admit that he was impressed. Not enough to want to drive out and have a chat with Mr. Thanatos. He can think of at least three better things to do with his time, and two of them involve resumes.

The denizens of the village pub had pointed him down a long dirt road that took Adam even farther into nowhere. He’d heard stories of omegas who ventured out alone into the backcountry and never came back. It almost made him nervous, driving out here to visit a man whose dynamic sex was unknown. Regardless, this place was a horror author’s wet dream; Adam half expected to see Nicholas Angel riding around loaded down with absurd amounts of weaponry.

But danger’s never bothered Adam. If anything, he finds it exciting. Adam’s already had one brush with death from working every angle for a story and, okay, maybe that situation wasn’t _exactly_ exciting, even if the sex had been great up until the almost being murdered bit. He figures he’s got at least seven more lives to count on, though not to mention much better odds of survival, especially if he’s a good lay.

Omegas were going to always be suspected of sleeping their way to the top, anyway. Didn’t hurt to play along with the stereotype.

Adam shifts a little in his seat as he turns past a leaning mailbox into a makeshift driveway. Elias Thanatos is a promising enough name. Maybe he’ll get lucky twice with this assignment.

It’s a lovely little cottage, though the yard’s overgrown. There are some pots on either side of the door that look like they might have had real plants in them at some point. Now, there are miniature gardens in each—not actual live greenery, but tiny faux topiary. Pretty, but odd. Adam thinks the place might have been painted blue, which makes absolutely no sense, considering that the place is made of stone. Whoever this Thanatos person is, he’s excellent at decorating little spots, but not so good at their real-life counterparts.

The side yard boasts a sagging tennis net, which confuses Adam, considering that there’s no one else around to play tennis with. A little further back is a chicken coop, and a fenced-in run with three rather confused looking hens. They walk around with their heads tilted, pecking at the dirt sideways, ruffling their feathers in tandem. There’s a goat nearby, roaming around like it has no idea where it is, but it shakes its head in conjunction with the chickens’ wings, like a circus of the telepathic damned.

Adam makes his way to the front door; there’s a too-small sign on it, expertly lettered. All it says is, “No, thank you.” He goes to pull the bell, and there is yet another sign on the rope, the same size. “You’re very rude,” it tells Adam.

If this man doesn’t turn out to be completely insane, Adam has the best fodder for another short story to sell on Amazon. This seems to be playing out like some macabre art house comedy, however, which means Adam is probably going to be lunch, and not in the fun way.

He rings the bell, and the clapper snaps off, thunking down into the dirt, bouncing off of a painted pebble. Eyebrows raised, Adam knocks on the door, half expecting it to fall in. It doesn’t, but no one answers, either. Adam isn’t exactly shocked; he’d tried to call Mr. Thanatos before driving out, and was informed that the number was no longer in use.

The back of his neck prickles. Adam tells himself that it’s only his scarf, so he walks back to the car and tosses it into the back along with his jacket. He feels exposed without his security blanket. After another moment of consideration, Adam pulls the scarf back out and puts it back on.

Trying to ignore the goosebumps building on his arms, Adam pushes up his sleeves and walks around to the chickenless side of the house. It looks like there’s a birdbath over there; might as well investigate since he’s here. Sure enough, Adam spies a wooden box jutting out from a window. There’s even a porch with a set of two tiny rocking chairs, everything lovingly cared for as opposed to the rest of the rural world this Thanatos has built for himself.

A trail of birdseed leads from the porch into the house. Apparently, there have been no house guests today. This is obviously not the library box—Adam remembers the photos taken of the exterior of that particular diorama, and there had been an open bay window through which one could see right into Elias’ own home. Instead of windows, this has a set of open French doors.

Adam decides to peek inside.

He has no idea how the interior of the box is decorated because there is the creator himself, eyes closed and legs sprawled open on top of his work desk, masturbating like there’s not a single person or bird in the world he could offend.

It’s the largest cock Adam has ever seen outside of alpha-on-alpha pornography from the 1970s.

 _No wonder there are no roosters in the teeter-totter flock of chickens. They’d be too jealous to function._ Adam should probably be worried that such a thought isn’t enough to quell his own sudden erection, but he couldn’t care less right now.

Elias Thanatos, now established as _definitely_ an alpha, also has a face straight out of seventies’ pornos. There’s a mop of curly hair on his head, side-parted and in desperate need of a good conditioning, but Adam wants to run his fingers through it, anyway, preferably while getting fucked on that desk so hard that the birdhouse falls off the damn window. Elias’ mustache is also worthy of the Golden Age of Porn, thick and bushy, doing a poor job of hiding his harelip. It’s not like the X-rated films Adam jerked off to as a teenager posted the most handsome of men, though, and he’s certainly jumped in bed with with worse.

If he’s being honest with himself—which, God help him, Adam’s trying it out for the first time—Elias is attractive in an...well Adam isn’t exactly certain in what way the man manages to be attractive, but he is, in fact, managing. Maybe it’s in a pastoral sense; maybe Adam has a secret shepherding kink, or whatever it is chicken wranglers are called.

Adam squints as his hand creeps to the front of his pants. It’s not voyeurism if he didn’t mean to start watching, right? He’s fairly sure that’s how it works. If it was unintentional and cocks don’t come out of pants, then it doesn’t count.

Right.

Elias is flushed and sweating like he’s in heat, though Adam knows it’s impossible; the pheromones are too heady, the musk too strong, even through the glass. Adam supposes it could be a rut; he’s just never seen an alpha in rut sweat like that before. Even stranger, there are tears rolling down Elias’ face, and he’s snotty-nosed, and neither of those things should be hot. Adam shouldn’t be experiencing arousal and pity at the same time, and then Elias licks his lips, and bites the bottom one, sucking it into his mouth, and Adam’s arousal wins out.

He watches bug-eyed as Elias’ knot begins to swell, stares enthralled as it becomes too large for Elias to fit his hand around, gapes as Elias starts rhythmically squeezing it with the hand that isn’t pumping up and down his cock. It’s the move of a man with too much practice getting himself off, and Adam might as well be drooling, because fuck if he doesn’t want to help.

The knot finally pops. Elias shoots all over his gray waistcoat, his button-up shirt, his sweater. He’s panting, and his eyes are open, and he’s somehow _still hard,_ and—

And his eyes are open.

_His eyes are open._

They’re a top-shelf flavor of whiskey, but Adam hadn’t meant to find out what color Elias’ eyes were through the doors of a dollhouse suction-cupped to a window as Adam watched him unawares.

Adam jerks back so hard that he topples over and onto his ass into the dust and the dry brown grass. He’s still excited, still leaking from cock and cunt, but also afraid for his life, because Elias literally just snarled at him, exhaling from his nose like an enraged bull. Crabs don’t scramble sideways as quickly as Adam is backwards, pushing with his heels and pulling with his hands as the front door slams open. Adam hears the poor bell crash against a flowerpot, which breaks, and now here’s Elias rounding the corner, erection hanging out of his briefs, pants around his thighs, shuffling with purpose as he brandishes a rolling pin.

Maybe later, if he’s still alive, Adam will be embarrassed that he whined in distress as he threw his arms over his face, flat on his back in the dirt as an irate alpha falls to straddle him, rolling pin over his head. He won’t however, be ashamed that he jumped when said pin strikes the ground right next to his ear, handle tangling in a curl.

“Did no one ever teach you that it’s very rude to watch someone!” It isn’t even a question, only a shout, punctuated with another impact of solid wood into the dirt. The handle pulls Adam’s hair this time, and he knows Elias is still yelling at him, but he’s too busy shielding himself and trying to remember how to breathe to pay attention. Something about how terrible Adam should feel and what a horrible person he was for spying, but it’s hard to hear over the rhythm of the pin and his own heart pounding in his ears.

 _Flattened with a rolling pin,_ Freddie Lounds’ obituary of him will read, assuming Adam even gets one. It’s as unlikely as a front page byline.

He tries to focus on being morose, because the pin continues to dig itself into the dirt beside Adam’s ear, and now Elias is shouting in a completely different language. Even being choked to death with a belt was better than this, because the man had been a beta and easy to overpower. But this is an irate alpha, and Adam’s never dealt with one of those before.

Elias grabs the front of Adam’s scarf, and now Adam’s thinking harder of that belt, and he swears that he can smell his own fear above even the scent of Elias’s come, and Adam feels himself starting to shake but he can’t stop it, and hears himself beginning to babble, but can’t stop that, either, and he’s embarrassed and terrified and nothing is funny or titillating anymore—

It’s gotten very quiet. Adam’s no longer being squeezed between knobbly knees, so he rolls onto his side, arms still covering his head. There’s still slick gluing his boxers to his groin, but it only feels gross now. All he can hear are the perpetually baffled chickens on the other side of the house.

And then Elias begins sobbing.

“I didn’t want to scare you!” he insists. “It’s just that I’m very frightening and intimidating.”

Adam peeks underneath an arm. Elias is hugging his rolling pin like a stuffed bear, legs straight out in front of him, sitting there in the grass across from Adam, cock still erect. He doesn’t seem all that scary now.

“Everyone says I am,” continues Elias around great hiccuping breaths. “Especially my brothers. I scared them so much that I felt bad for them and had to leave, which was a very nice thing for me to do. Much nicer than peeking through someone’s birdhouse and interrupting their privacy.”

“I really am very sorry.” Adam’s voice sounds small; it’s so disgustingly omegan, but he can’t muster the energy to raise it. “I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Of course it wasn’t. I’m simply very distracting because of my handsome face and my manliness.” He blows his nose into the shoulder seam of his sweater without relinquishing his hold on the rolling pin.

“I rang the bell.”

“I was extremely busy.”

Adam smiles a little. “I noticed.”

“Which was terrible of you!” Elias is shouting again, though his eyes are closed now, but the bellowing is enough to make Adam instinctively bury his face in his arms again, drawing his knees up to his elbows, trying to take up as little space as possible. “You should be asha—”

There’s a pitiful, high-pitched wail, and Adam hopes there’s another omega hiding in Elias’ chimney, because otherwise that came from him.

“Oh.” He hears a thump that is hopefully the rolling pin being discarded. Elias repeats, “Oh.”

Adam tries to close himself into an even smaller ball at Elias’ touch, even though it’s nothing more than the weight of a few fingers on his shoulder. They start moving, stroking the same curve again and again, as if no one had ever shown Elias how to comfort someone. Not that Adam wants to be comforted. No, he only wants to climb into the backseat of his rented car and hide under his jacket and not make a sound for the next week.

“May I give you a hug?” asks Elias.

 _No,_ Adam wants to say. _No, but you can fucking fuck right the fuck off._ Instead, what he whispers is, “Don’t hurt me.”

It’s like a switch flips. Elias goes from obviously having no idea what he’s doing to pulling Adam into his lap, and putting his arms around him, and tucking Adam’s face against his neck. Adam takes a shaky breath in—he smells concerned alpha, and not furious alpha, and that helps more than he cares to admit. There’s a large hand petting his hair, and this situation has gone in so many different directions in the past few minutes that Adam’s exhausted.

“I didn’t know,” Elias says. “Of course. It makes sense now. You were lost and smelled a big strong alpha nearby and were curious.”

“I wasn’t lost,” but he sounds lost. “I was here to talk about your birdhouses. And then I got distracted.”

“So you _were_ curious.”

Adam finds himself grabbing onto Elias’ sweater for comfort; his fingers land on come, but he honestly doesn’t care. Besides, there’s an enormous erection poking into his hip, and that has yet to bother him. “I suppose I was.”

Elias breathes in; Adam matches his breath. “Can you keep a secret?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for Adam to answer. “I’m not really intimidating.”

“You did an excellent job of convincing me otherwise.” Adam’s still shivering, no matter how far he tries to burrow into Elias. “I suppose I deserved it, though.”

“You _were_ extremely rude.”

“You aren’t wrong.”

“Of course not,” says Elias. “I very rarely am.” He’s growing more confident, exerting more pressure, his touch less timid. “Can you keep another secret?” Adam nods; Elias doesn’t smell bitter anymore, though he does smell strangely like butter. “I lie too much.”

“I do it for a living.”

“But I’m not good at it.”

Adam tries to chuckle, but it comes out as barely more than a huff. “It’s a good thing I’m the journalist, then.”

The hand on Adam’s hair pauses. “Are you lying now?”

“No,” Adam tells him. “No, you did scare me. And yes, someone tried to kill me once, so you scared me even more than you probably would have otherwise.”

Elias holds Adam even closer, close enough that Adam’s nose crams uncomfortably into Elias’ scent glands. “How could an alpha hurt you?”

“He was a beta. And you almost _did_ hurt me,” Adam reminds him, words obscured by his lips being pressed into Elias’ skin.

“I was upset.”

Elias is so remarkably endearing, now that he’s not trying to kill Adam, who was watching him masturbate through a dollhouse stuck onto the side of a cottage next to three inbred chickens and an erstwhile goat in a lawn that time forgot.

This is the strangest day of Adam’s entire life.

“You were, at that.”

“I didn’t know you were an omega.”

Adam manages to bristle, though his heart isn’t really in it. “Would that’ve made a difference?”

“Of course it would.” It’s testament to how drained Adam is that he doesn’t challenge that misomegynist worldview. “I may not have been taught how to be a good proper alpha, but I know enough to be nice to omegas and gentle with them.” He lowers his voice and sniffles again. “Even if no omega would ever let me be their mate.” His chin trembles against Adam’s forehead. “I’m not quite normal, you see.”

And it’s starting to make sense, Elias living out here all alone. He’s an over-emotional alpha with no social graces and even less tact. His family had opted him out of dynamics classes from the sounds of it, so he’d had no chance of ever keeping a mate, let alone finding one who would look past his more obvious faults. Hell, his family had probably opted him out of most of his life. Elias seems to know enough to lie when he shouldn’t, and be honest when he shouldn’t, innocent and crude in equal measure. Adam’s never been so grateful at learning how to read other people in his life; he’d only expected it to come in handy in his career path, is all.

Though he _is_ here on business. “I don’t suppose you could help me, could you?”

“Of course I can. I’m very helpful.”

Adam nods, trying not to yawn. He’s surprisingly comfortable. “I need to interview you,” he explains, “about your wonderful birdhouses.”

Elias sniffles again. “You really think they’re wonderful? Because Gabriel told me they were silly, and that I shouldn’t, and then I got mad, and then I had to leave.”

For someone who speaks so simply, Elias packs enormous amounts of information into small spaces. “Lots of people think they’re wonderful. That’s why I’m here. I tried to call to set up a time to meet, but the number didn’t work. The magazine sent me out, anyway.” He pauses before adding, “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I see that now. You don’t seem like a meaning to be rude sort. I’ve known lots of those.”

“I imagine you have.”

“Yes,” says Elias firmly, nodding a few times. “I will let you talk to me about the homes I make for my friends.”

“I think I’ll have to come back another time, however.”

“Because of the masturbation?” It’s so matter-of-fact, though I guess there’s no point in ignoring the other raging dick in the yard. “That happens frequently; I love myself a great deal.”

Adam’s not entirely sure Elias meant for that to be funny. “I’m just very tired now, that’s all.”

“You could…” Elias clears his throat. “You can take a nap here. Since I’m the reason you’re sleepy.”

“Partners don’t usually invite me into their beds without expecting something.” Adam tries for cheeky and lands northwest of jaded.

“I expect that you will sleep,” says Elias, “especially since you are tired. Unless that is one of the lies that you think you are good at telling.”

“You’re quite the softie for a lunatic with a rolling pin.”

“Thank you. What a kind thing to say!”

 

* * *

 

For a man that was going to murder him with kitchen equipment, Elias may be the most tender person Adam has ever encountered. He’d never had an alpha insist on carrying him to bed which, while a bit patronizing, was sweet. Besides, Adam hadn’t been keen on removing his face from Elias’ neck—he smelled so comforting, like butter and sugar, like cookies. It seemed like Elias was loathe to let Adam go, as well, as if he’d been waiting to hold someone, to touch and care for. 

Heaven help him, but Adam craved the attention. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had tucked him into bed. Elias even offered to read him a bedtime story—"They’re nice to hear before you sleep. I have a book about tectonic plates.”

“That’s...no, thank you, I think I’ll just go ahead and nap.”

And Adam had fallen asleep quickly, even if Elias sat on the edge of the bed, glancing back at him every few seconds, wringing his hands. Elias’ sheets smelled like him, and Adam couldn’t help but turn his head further into the pillow.

He’s not sure how long he napped—probably longer than he should have, but Adam’s not slept well in years—but Elias is gone from his unnecessary vigil. Elias isn’t in the living room, either, nor in the kitchen or at his work desk.

A tiny bird chirps at him from the miniature living room. It’s head is tilted to one side.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Adam searches for the bathroom, praying that there’s a well on the property somewhere, desperately hoping for indoor plumbing. He finds a closed door, but it’s only an overstuffed closet, full of crocheted blankets and a basket of doilies of all things. Adam locates the bathroom and relieves himself; the smell of come is stifling, and the wastebasket overflows with wadded up tissues.

He goes to dry his hands, then decides against using the hand towel. Just in case.

There’s still no sign of Elias, so he checks the living room, looking up the chimney. He crouches and peeks under the desk, but there’s nothing there besides boxes full of tiny furniture. Back in the kitchen, Adam discovers that he missed the pantry the first time.

Elias whimpers behind the door, wedged shut. There’s no alphan pheromones to scent, only the weird aroma of a cheesemonger’s shop. Still, Adam’s body is reacting like there’s an alpha breathing directly on his neck; he can feel his boxers growing damp again as he begins to get aroused. It’s heady, albeit confusing.

Frowning, Adam knocks. “Are you alright in there?”

“Go away.” Elias snorts wetly.

“Why?”

“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” says Elias. “I want you to leave now.”

Now Adam’s even _more_ confused. “You said I could interview you after my nap.”

“Which was awful of you, falling asleep on your host like that. Ill-mannered and boorish.”

“You invited me to sleep in your bed!” Adam says, hands clenching into fists.

Elias blows his nose. “I would never do such a thing! How dare you insult me like this.” More nasally honking. “I must ask you to leave.”

Adam huffs; he’s not going to be bullied into submission again, rolling pin or not. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“And you’re—you’re badgering me!” Elias’ voice is increasing in pitch, like he’s more disturbed than angry. “Get out. I dislike you immensely!”

 _“Fine,”_ Adam replies, throwing up his hands. “You’re completely insane, anyway!” He grabs his scarf from the table, tossing out over his shoulder, “Thanks for not taking advantage of me in my sleep, you giant oaf!”

Elias is so quiet that Adam almost doesn't hear him say, “I wouldn't ever hurt you now, not even like this.” But Adam does his best to ignore him, and to ignore the sudden heaving sobs coming from the pantry as he slams the front door.

He knows he's reacting too strongly. Alphas have tried to play with his mind too often for such a ham-handed attempt to bother him like this. It's as nonsensical as Elias’ complete one-eighty from frankly adorable to raving madman. Hormonal and volatile as a goddamn teenager.

This was supposed to be a boring chat with a bird-obsessed freak. Instead, Adam’s sitting on the stoop, slumped, watching a goat idle by. It falls over, but keeps trying to eat the grass, and Adam thinks it might have the right idea. The tumbling down part, anyway. He certainly _feels_ like giving up.

It would be so easy to climb in his car, drive back to the city, and make up every word of his interview. Elias wouldn’t complain; he’d likely never know. But it’s that very knowledge that keeps Adam sitting, listening to a grown man snuffling loudly enough to hear outside. He’s so lonely, and Adam isn’t sure which of the two of them he means.

Elias is an ignoramus, but he’s also kind, when he isn’t blustering and puffing himself up like a poisonous fish. He’s not even _close_ to Adam’s type, but Adam’s type tends to fill him up and leave him hollow. No one’s ever wanted him to stay the night, let alone put him to bed first. Adam can’t remember the last time he’s cuddled someone. Actually, he doesn’t know that he’s ever wanted to.

He sighs, resigns himself to his fate, and goes back inside.

Adam knocks softly on the door. “Elias?”

“Go ‘way.”

“I just wanted to apologize,” he says. “You aren’t a lunatic. Or an oaf.”

Elias is still crying, little hitched noises, almost whimpers. “Please leave.”

“I will when you calm down and come out of the pantry.”

“This is all your fault!”

Adam blinks. “It’s my fault you’re hiding behind a door that smells like cheese?” There’s moaning behind the door, but it doesn’t sound like Elias is having anything close to a good time. “Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright! It’s very obvious that I’m not alright. What a stupid thing to ask.”

Taking a deep breath, Adam reminds himself that it’s probably a decades-old defense mechanism. “Could you explain how—” A choked off whine, and the door shakes as a great weight settles against it. “Elias?”

“This isn’t supposed to happen until next week! It’s your fault! You’ve messed everything up!”

“What isn’t supposed to—” He pauses as his belly begins to ache again. “Elias, are you in rut?”

“Mmhmm.”

“That’s a terrible coincidence,” says Adam, shaking his head, “me showing up right before the six month mark.”

Elias blows his nose again. “It happens every month.”

The world tilts like a chicken. “You go into rut every month?”

“I believe that’s what I just said. You don’t listen well, at all!”

“Elias, open the door,” because Adam has just made an important decision, because a monthly rut is _absolutely_ something he can deal with. “Good Christ, let me in.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Elias mumbles. “You aren’t all of those things I said, either. You’re really very nice. I just say things sometimes, is all.”

Adam smiles. “I noticed.”

“Gabriel says that I’m too big, that no one would want me to—”

“Elias.”

“You shouldn’t interrupt, Adam. It’s terribly rude.” Adam is beginning to scent Elias over the ugliness of what must be a year’s supply of cheese in the pantry. “Anyway, Gabriel says I would tear someone up, and I don’t want to do that.”

“Gabriel is quite likely much, much smaller.” He tries the doorknob. “I promise you, Elias. I definitely want you to.”

There’s a long pause, and then Elias opens the door just a crack. His eyes are red and swollen; his face is flushed; there’s snot in his mustache. Adam’s heart hurts looking at him.

“Hang on,” he tells him. “I’m going to grab a towel.” Adam does, pulls a wet rag right out of the sink, hoping it’s clean enough. “Can you open the door a little more so I can come in?” and Elias does, and Adam takes in the rest of the disheveled man. The front of his shirt is completely covered in come, for one. His pants are down around his ankles, and Adam’s surprised by how skinny his legs are. Most importantly, Elias has his beautiful, ruddy, fucking enormous cock in his fist.

It’s still hard.

There is a God.

Adam makes Elias scoot farther into the pantry, which is, in fact, full of various wheels of cheese of all sizes, wrapped loosely in paper. He kneels beside him and starts washing off his face, but that only makes Elias cry more, so Adam settles for simply cleaning the mucus away.

“I’m going to take off your shirt.”

Elias tries to scowl; it only makes his lip wobble. “That’s presumptuous of you.”

“I’m trying to _help you,_ you hard-headed asshole.” Adam looks at him, grinning, hoping Elias gets that he’s not being mean. Elias moves his mouth around like he doesn’t actually know how to smile. He’s going to change that, Adam’s decided. This assignment’s going to take much longer than expected. “Are you clean?” he asks, unbuttoning Elias’ shirt and waistcoat.

“I...I took a bath this morning.”

“I mean do you have any diseases I could catch by having sex with you.”

“Well why didn’t you ask that?”

Adam takes another deep breath; sugar cookies and aged cheddar. “Elias, have you ever had sex?”

He straightens, glaring at Adam. “Of course I have! Lots of times!”

“So that’s a no.” He shrugs off Elias’ three layers; underneath all the clothes, Elias is soft and hairy. Adam’s never really found either attractive, but Elias seems to be the exception to all of Adam’s carefully-constructed rules. “Christ,” Adam says, swinging a knee over to straddle his legs, “help me with my pants.”

Elias’ hands are shaking as he goes for the button. His fingers are still surprisingly nimble, though, and how wonderful that must have been for him, Adam thinks, to be deemed too big and too clumsy all of his life only to discover that he was talented at making the tiniest, daintiest things. Before his insides can dissolve into mush, Adam thinks about what else those fingers must be good at. He peels his pants and boxers down as soon as Elias has them unzipped, only moving enough to get his right leg out. They get snagged on his shoe until he remembers that it exists, reaching behind him to yank it off.

Their cocks brush together. Elias comes, and _oh,_ Adam is going to have fun with that. It’s going to take ages if his knot pops every time he orgasms. Adam’s going to be spent before he’s even tied and, “Please tell me you have lubricant in here that isn’t cheese.”

He looks at Adam through his fingers, his hands having flown over his face as soon as he came. “I keep lubricant in all of the rooms,” he says sheepishly. “Just in case.”

“Where is it?”

“Beside the gouda.”

“Of course it is.” Adam grabs the tube and says, “Let me see your hand.” Elias gives him his right, moving his left hand back to cover up his face. “Why are you embarrassed?” asks Adam, squeezing a generous amount of lube onto Elias’ fingers. Adam may be slippery with slick, and there’s come literally everywhere except on the cheeses, though the pecorino may have suffered some collateral damage, but he has no interest in even risking chafing given Elias’ size.

“I came very quickly,” he explains. “My magazines tell me that it’s bad to be fast.”

“Do you still have a erection?”

“You can see it plainly; it’s right in front of you.”

“Then I don’t see a problem. And soon,” Adam says, smirking, guiding Elias’ hand between his legs, “we won’t see it, at all..”

Elias finally drops his hand from his face, his eyes growing wide, like he’s only now realized that he’s about to fuck Adam. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats. His free hand cradles the side of Adam’s face. “You’re so good, and so pretty.” The praise is going straight to Adam’s cock, right to his cunt, and more slick slips out. Elias gasps. "You leaked on me. Is that supposed to happen?”

Adam shakes his head incredulously, then sinks himself onto one of Elias’ fingers. “Yes, that’s supposed to happen. I’m—move your finger around some, circles or back and forth or—” Adam breaks off into a shocked grunt as Elias slips in a second finger, using them both to press around, exploring.

“You’re warm,” says Elias; his face is frozen in a bewildered half-smile. “And wet. Is it...is it feeling good yet?”

“Starting to. Crook your fingers, like you’re calling someone over. There’ll be a spongy spot and—” He arches back as Elias rubs against his prostate; Elias’s other hand moves smoothly from the side of Adam’s face to the back of his head. “I can’t believe you’re good at this.” Adam winces as he immediately replays his words. “That was—I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright. I’m good at lots of things; it must be bewildering to think about.”

“I really should’ve expected it.” Adam leans over, resting the side of his head on top of Elias’. It folds his arms up, makes the muscles start to cramp. “You’re excellent with your hands.”

“...I am?”

“Yes, you silly, silly man.” He kisses his hair before he has a chance to tell himself not to. “Look at all the elegant little things you make for birds. And for your porch, too, strangely enough.”

Elias is beginning to sniffle again. “It’s only that I love birds, you see. Someone has to make them houses.”

“Your logic is irrefutable.” Adam’s beginning to pant—Elias doesn’t know any better than to simply rub incessantly, and Adam has no intention of telling him otherwise. This is going to end with him being a gloriously overstimulated disaster in a pantry full of cheese.

He pushes himself back up, hands gripping Elias’ shoulders. Looking down at Elias is almost a mistake; he’s staring at Adam like he’s the most wonderful person in the world, like no one else exists. Tears streak down his face, and it’s so refreshing to be with an alpha who doesn’t hide their feelings. In this one element, Elias isn’t afraid to be honest, even if it leads to his face being a mess. He doesn’t care, but Adam does.

At one time, Adam would’ve found it insulting to be with someone who cried during sex. Right now, though, it's only beautiful.

“Give me another,” Adam orders, and Elias does, and Adam can feel the gush of slick from his cunt, and Elias’ makes the most innocent noise, and it's too much. “Gonna come.”

Elias rubs harder, instinctual, the tip of his tongue curling up and onto his harelip as he concentrates. Adam moans and comes onto his chest, matting the graying curls, thick and white as though he hadn't already jerked off in the shower this morning.

“Can I take off your shirt? They take off clothes in the movies.” He blinks, and pushes Adam’s hair up and out of his face, adding, “Please?”

Adam does it for him, grabs the hem of his turtleneck and pulls it off in one swift motion. Still, he’s covered; Adam always wears a sports bra in hopes of being taken more seriously. Not that it works, since the alphas already know his breasts exist, no matter how small they are.

“I’m leaving this on,” he says, pinching at the strap, tugging it to get the point across. Even touching the damn thing leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“Maybe I could put my hand over it?” He’s so earnest that Adam doesn’t hesitate like he usually does, just consents to it. Elias wraps a hand around the side of Adam’s chest, fingers clutching his back, thumbs searching for Adam’s nipples like he’s not exactly sure where they’re supposed to be. It’s unbearably sweet, Elias’ curiosity; ruining him would be absurdly simple, but Adam has no compulsion to do so. It would be like kicking a lost goat, or maybe tipping a cow, and the barnyard analogies have got to stop before Adam loses the last bit of his pleasant post-orgasm buzz.

Elias repeats, “You’re very pretty. I’ve only ever looked at girls. I’m not gay, you know.”

Adam only shrugs. He can explain the elements of attraction later.

“But I like to look at you, even though it makes me want to masturbate again.”

“I could help you with that.” Adam gives him the most sly look he can manage in the afterglow. “Take out your fingers; I’m beyond ready for you to fuck me.”

There’s a literal trail of slick that strings out from Adam’s cunt and over his thigh and up to Elias’ quizzical face. He tilts his head like the rest of the goddamn denizens of this odd little patch of earth, then licks them, doesn’t suck them into his mouth but licks Adam right from his fingers.

“You’re…” Another tentative taste. “I’m not sure I like this very much,” and Adam can’t help himself, laughing so hard that Elias starts frowning and sniffling. Adam grabs Elias’ wrist and pulls it away—Elias starts blinking, shocked, so Adam holds it tighter—before leaning in and kissing the frown away.

At first, Elias just leaves his mouth slightly open. Adam supposes he’s neither kissed someone before nor watched a pornstar do it, so he takes the thumb of his other hand and pushes up on Elias’ jaw until his mouth is closed. Even then, Elias doesn’t purse his lips or apply any pressure back, just holds stock still. But Adam is determined to make at least one kiss happen, even though he’s not precisely practiced himself; he’s never been interested in kissing his one-nighters.

Eventually, he gives up. They can practice kissing later when Adam can’t taste himself on Elias’ lips.

“I’m going to line you up now, okay?”

“My knot—”

“Will deflate soon enough,” Adam assures him. “We can still have plenty of fun until then, I promise.”

Before Elias can protest again, Adam grabs his cock and eases himself down.

“Jesus Christ, Elias. You’re—you’re _huge.”_

Elias hands are over his face again. “I told you I would hurt you, but you simply wouldn’t listen. This is your fault, you know, this entire situation.”

Adam squirms experimentally, and Elias babbles in the same other language as before and comes again. Immediately, Elias shouts, “Babies!”

“It’s alright. I have an IUD.”

“I don’t see how having one would keep babies from happening!”

“It—” _Dammit, I would really like to have another erection before the heat death of the universe._ “I promise, Elias. No babies. Now please, _please_ shut up.”

Elias furrows his brow and opens his mouth like he’s going to protest again. Instead, he huffs, grabs Adam’s hips, and thrusts up. Adam has to throw a hand on the wall to keep his balance; a wheel of cheese rolls off of a shelf, but neither of them seem to care. Especially not Adam, because Elias still-formed knot is pressing against the underside of his balls, stimulating his prostate from the outside while Elias’ massive cock presses against it from the inside, and this is the fastest Adam’s gotten hard in his entire life.

He grabs Elias’ other hand, settling for keeping himself upright with his forehead—and that’s going to bruise later, given the force with which he just bashed his head against the wall, but who cares? Maybe Elias, since he squeaks, but certainly not Adam, who pulls Elias’ hands off of his hips, presses his wrists against the wall, and starts riding him.

Beneath him, Elias is making the weirdest, lewdest noises. The very tip of Adam’s cock is bumping against Elias’ bare chest with each movement Adam makes, dragging precum through the mess of his _actual_ come that he left earlier. His hair tickles Adam in the best way. He comes again, forehead sliding down the wall a bit as he loses rhythm for all of two seconds, moaning brokenly as he just keeps going.

There’s no way of knowing which of them is moaning louder, or whose words are cruder, like they’re having some undiscussed contest. The more Adam rides, the more Elias’ knot deflates, and finally, _finally_ it begins to ease inside him. Once he’s fully settled, flush against Elias, Adam stops long enough to catch his breath.

“Is it...are we done?”

“Do you want to be done?” asks Adam. “Because I sure as shit don’t.”

Elias bites his bottom lip. “I think I’d like to know what it’s like to be stuck,” he mumbles without releasing it.

Adam moves his hands to hold onto the shelf behind him—“Grab my ass; this might get tricky.”—and begins to fuck himself on Elias’ cock again, praying that cheese doesn’t fall on his head.

Elias' knot forms with incredible speed. Adam only gets in a few movements before they’re tied together and Elias is coming inside him again. “You didn’t—could you come again?”

“I’m...maybe if you did the work this time.”

He pulls Adam back to him so fast he gets dizzy. Adam catches himself with his hands before his head has a chance to connect with the wall and concuss him. He folds his arms beneath his head, turning his face away from the wall as Elias starts pulling their hips together again as much as his knot will allow, Adam’s sore cock rubbing through the puddle on Elias’ chest, his slick still pouring out around them.

He comes again when Elias starts mouthing at his breast through his bra, and Adam’s going to be fucked into unconsciousness at this rate. Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad.

“Am I doing it right?” Elias asks around his mouthful.

“Yes,” Adam replies, chest heaving with his breath. “You’re fucking fantastically.”

“Of course I am. I’m the best at fantastic fucking.”

“Though I have no clue how you’re staying so coherent mid rut.”

“That’s because I’m the best at rutting, too.”

Adam grins tiredly. “You’re ridiculous is what you are. But that’s okay. I think I’m starting to like ridiculous.” The vibration of Elias’ strange laugh feels wonderful on his nipple, the bud quickly peaking beneath the material. Maybe Adam will feel brave enough to take it off later.

But Elias pulls his mouth back just enough to ask, “Are you hungry? A good alpha is supposed to feed his partner.” He pauses. “I might have some cheese.”

Oddly enough, the cheese is starting to smell kind of good.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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> 
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